Wine and Cheese
There was another reception at Janet's work the other night, this one held by the social club that is ostensibly for all of us ex-pats and spouses to mingle and network. There didn't seem to be a lot of networking going on, but people may simply have been focused on higher priorities than socializing, since the evening was organized as a wine tasting, in which a wide selection of cheeses was matched with appropriate wines.
Cheeses were grouped by type: soft cheeses, the blues,
chevres, those with a white rind (like brie), and firm ones, each accompanied with distinctly different wines: Gewürztraminer for the soft ones; Pouilly Fumé for the chevre; Sauternes and Port for the blues; and so on. The evening was initiated with a short introduction by the facilitating wine expert, from
Les Etablissement Fillot. I was gratified to find that I followed M. Fillot's entire speech; but perhaps it's not surprising that after the last year and a half the one area where my vocabulary seems to be tolerably comprehensive is wine and cheese.
A Frenchman in New York
My French teacher, A, was in New York last weekend, and it was fascinating to hear about the things that he was struck by about the city, and especially about the people and how they acted and reacted. So often it was revealing about how French and particularly Parisian culture works.
He had some trouble finding a coffee that he found drinkable (ironically, he resorted to espresso at Starbucks). And he noted how everyone seems to carry around a big coffee while they go about their business, even keeping it sometimes in a special thermos mug. This is something about Paris that I miss: not only can you not get a big mug of steaming coffee, people just don't consume food or drink in public (an exception seems to be the metro, for some reason), so you can't wander about the shops or go off to class with a fortifying hot drink. You get a few tablespoons at a time which you consume wherever you purchased it. A was also impressed by how people managed to drink while in motion. He wasn't opposed to the idea of carrying your coffee with you, but was sure that he would just spill it on himself if he didn't stop and take his time.
Europeans are always struck by the space in North America, but I always thought they were talking about the size of our yards, the width of the roads and the distance between towns. But A was amazed by how people interacted over what appeared to him to be huge distances. He noticed that people, sometimes strangers, would see him from across a sidewalk, from a car, from the other side of a room, and would meet his eyes rather than decorously ignoring him unless they knew him and then only acknowledging him once he was up close. He noticed that they move differently on the sidewalk or in a hallway, adjusting course so to make way many yards in advance. He found it unsettling to be so clearly noticed from such a distance. Parisians walk directly and only alter course a little and at the last moment; they're just not used to having a lot of space to manouvere so are used to just brushing by. This is something that I have found unnerving in Paris, the way people appear to be ignoring you while they're on a collision course - it seems so obnoxiously arrogant, the assumption that you, inferior being, will of course move out of their way; whereas it's really just a difference of personal space.
The distance we're comfortable with enables us to have a brief conversation without stopping. We're quite used to greeting a colleague as we pass in the hall, but A was surprised when someone asked him "How are you?" and kept walking, not even waiting for a reply. Europeans are not so casual with their pleasantries. He watched tourists leaving a hotel outside of which the JFK shuttlebus was waiting. The driver would shout across the width of the driveway and sidewalk to each one, asking if they wanted the shuttle. It was clear who were the Europeans because they appeared completely unaware that they were being addressed, since it was inconceivable that anyone could be talking to them across such a distance; the driver in her turn was clearly put out by being so rudely ignored by the people she was talking to.
A Frenchman in New York... someone should make a movie.
Champs de Cars
I thought the Champs Elysées was the prestigious address for the designers of
haute couture - but outshining them these days are the major French auto makers who have built showrooms in which they present their latest - and beyond - wares. These aren't dealerships where you can take a car out for a test drive; they're glitzy galleries where they attempt to define their brand in the most exciting and showy way.
Peugot has bizarre and fanciful concept cars. Yesterday evening it was full of tourists taking more pictures than they did just up the block at the Arc de Triomphe. There is also a little gift shop, and a bunch of well-dressed security guards making sure no one touches the vehicles, or drips water on the floor from their umbrella (oops).
Renault has two of their Formula 1 race cars and a display of under-the-hood technology. On the wall there is a description of each course in the Formula 1 circuit. They have one of their production models on the floor, as well as an unusual ragtop that I'm not sure we'll ever see on the road (below). As well as a gift shop, they had a full restaurant on the second floor with a view of the displays.
Renault's next big thing?
There are others. I didn't go to see what Citröen is doing but they're building something out over the sidewalk. It's still covered by scaffolding, but is clearly going to be even more elaborate than the rest.
Winter Sales
The city of light needs every last bulb in January, where it is grey and damp. As in many other parts of the world this year, it's also disturbingly mild with temperatures reaching the mid-teens and the thought of snow utterly laughable. But on the bright side: the sales have begun. We went down to
les grands magasins (which like so many things, sounds much better untranslated) to see what bargains might entice. The crowds were ferocious, but less aggravating than last year. Unlike last January, we know where we're going and what to look for, so we're not being buffetted by all Paris while we navigate and browse. And we're probably growing acclimatized to the pace and demands of the city -
les vrais Parisiens, if we could just get comfortable with this silly language.
True Parisians, waiting for a bus in the Place de la Concorde
Back Within the Walls
We have had a very pleasant Christmas holiday, despite the usual cold that goes around at this time of year. Only Janet caught it this year, but it did slow down our social whirl a little.
Naturally we had a long list of things we wanted to do back home, including indulging in some things that we can't find in Paris, like good Mexican food and Boxing Day sales. Acknowledging that the grass is always greener on the other side of the ocean, on our way home we tried to enumerate the things we had likewise missed about Paris during our absence. It turned out to be a rather short list. The bread, the cheese, and more generally food and wine; but nothing else sprang strongly to mind. I guess we've been here so long we're starting to take the city of light for granted; or perhaps the holiday just wasn't long enough.
One thing that we will certainly miss when we move back home is the generous holidays offered by French employers. Ironic, because that's the very thing that permitted us to leave France and spend Christmas with our family and friends.
